


Lost in the depth of the soul

by GrantaireandHisBottle



Category: Les Miserables
Genre: AU, Activism, Amnesia, M/M, Multi, Nihilism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrantaireandHisBottle/pseuds/GrantaireandHisBottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark haired man stands still until his cigarette dies slowly; his eyes unfocused, but an aftertaste of grief is visible, even when he doesn’t control himself. Then he shakes his head and starts walking.</p><p>Across the street is going another man, still cold wind playing with his golden hair as he watches strange guy on the other side. A smile appears on his lips for a second, but then he frowns.</p><p>Their gazes meet; as one smiles sadly, even bitterly, at the same moment the second man cries out loudly: “Watch out!!!”     </p><p>A car hit the body, a cup of white coffee falls, headphones have disconnected and there is jazz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost in the depth of the soul

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if this should be continued. It's my first AU story and English is still my second language, so have mercy on my soul, guys.
> 
> Grantaire is like here -->http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=uk&client=firefox-a&hs=dbK&sa=X&rls=org.mozilla:uk:official&biw=893&bih=466&tbm=isch&tbnid=0sEZjUBvICyqDM:&imgrefurl=http://malecelebbio.com/2013/03/21/george-blagden/george-blagden-11/&docid=BgF_wimM1GaFKM&imgurl=http://malecelebbio.com/gallery/2013/03/George-Blagden-11.png&w=643&h=359&ei=DjBjUd2sD9C6hAe1qoDgCQ&zoom=1&ved=1t:3588,r:54,s:0,i:253&iact=rc&dur=819&page=6&tbnh=168&tbnw=277&start=53&ndsp=12&tx=148&ty=44 
> 
>  
> 
> and his smile is like here--> http://www.google.com/imgres?start=136&hl=uk&client=firefox-a&hs=fcK&sa=X&rls=org.mozilla:uk:official&biw=893&bih=466&tbm=isch&tbnid=wygiJ-1rWqRXwM:&imgrefurl=http://herocomplex.latimes.com/tv/wondercon-2013-vikings-invades-offers-sneak-peek-of-new-episode/&docid=R5LV7rbgIBwFgM&imgurl=http://latimesherocomplex.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/vikingspanelblagden.jpg%253Fw%253D600&w=600&h=408&ei=TjBjUd7sAdCXhQeG8YCwBg&zoom=1&ved=1t:3588,r:36,s:100,i:112&iact=rc&dur=675&page=13&tbnh=177&tbnw=272&ndsp=11&tx=167&ty=101
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading)

The early spring sun gently warms up a young man, probably in his twenties, who jumps on the pavement. He has dark curled hair, which is now hidden by a red hat, because this year spring is literally kidding.

Who is this man? He has a tired face with dark skin under his eyes, but right now he is smiling, in his ears jazz playing obscenely loud. 

Brown leather jacket is put on a violet pullover and a t-shirt under it. He laughs at something; his movements are a bit sharp as he jumps, trying to avoid the mud under his red Converse. He starts whistling a tune, but then suddenly becomes silent and reaches for something in his jeans pocket. Thin fingers pull out a box of cigarettes and jerkily light one, inhaling the smoke so desperately, like it isn’t dangerous chemicals, but pure and fresh air for a drowning man.

A dark haired man stands still until his cigarette dies slowly; his eyes are unfocused, but an aftertaste of grief is visible, even when he doesn’t control himself. Then he shakes his head and starts walking.

Across the street is going another man, still cold wind playing with his golden hair as he watches the strange guy on the other side. A smile appears on his lips for a second, but then he frowns.

Curled haired boy begins crossing the road, but suddenly stops and pulls his phone from the pocket. The other one stares at him with disbelief. 

_What are you doing? What..turning on your play list at the middle of the road??_

Their gazes meet; as one smiles sadly, even bitterly, at the same moment the second man cries out loudly: “Watch out!!!” 

A car hit the body, a cup of white coffee falls, headphones have disconnected and there is jazz. 

 

He opens his eyes. A second later he shuts them again: so much bright lights around. He sighs. And then a thought slowly comes to his mind. Then another one. They’ve built a statement, then- a question. _Oh, that’s interesting._ He can feel his arms and legs, his neck and head. But still_

“Where am I?” his voice sounds so strange to him, like he has never heard it before.

The sound left to his bed makes him turn his head slightly. A golden haired boy sits next to the bed, a sigh of relief escapes his mouth. 

“In a hospital. ” they stare at each other for some time. 

_In my head I can feel memories, slipping away like water and I can’t catch them. I know this man in front of me. He must be very important to me. Me? I close my eyes. I. I can feel my body, my hands and fingers, my lips and cheeks. My chest and heart, beating loudly. And, yet I am lost, like I am borrowing all of those._

“And who am I?” I ask with closed eyes, realizing how desperate I sound.

“I saw an accident. You were hit by a car.” He pauses, but when I say nothing, he continues. “You didn’t have a phone, a wallet or student ID. Only your iPod. But in the hospital they need a name, so I said “Grantaire”.”

I look at him. Why do I feel that I want to cry. Damn it.

The man on the chair reads the question in the eyes of another. “I am Enjolras.”

Enjolras. What a strange name. But a good strange. 

I bite my lower lips as my head suddenly bursts with pain. Trying really hard not to moan because of it, I squeeze the edge of the blanket.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras jumps from the chair. “Hold on, I will call a doctor.” the sound of him running outside comes to my slowly. I breathe heavily, my hands shaking.

In his voice was panic. _Who are you Enjolras?_

They’ve returned in a minute, the doctor gives me something.I hope it is a painkiller It is cold and as it runs down my veins the heavy mist inside my skull fades a bit. 

Tiredly I look up at them, still breathing with difficulties, sweat on my forehead and dry lips.

So much grief in his eyes. Why?

“Grantaire. Do you hear me?” a doctor sits near me. I blink and look away from Enjolras. Then nod.

He asks me questions which honestly confuses me. What can I do if I can’t remember my name or where do I live. It’s not my fault. He annoys me so much. You are the doctor, not me, so do something.

I fall on the pillow and immediately regret doing that, as my head protests. The painful cry almost escapes my lips. 

Just go already. I hide my face in hands. I can smell tobacco. Does it mean that I smoke?

“Okay.” The doctor stands up and reaches for my medical card. “This man has amnesia and for now there are drugs which can try to cure this. But they’re expensive and_” he sighs, looking at me, then back at Enjolras. “they do not always help. When a person was in an accident, sometimes it’s a reaction of the brain, which tries to protect the body of memories which can hurt. You say you are his friend, don’t you?”

My eyes automatically slip to Enjolras. Is he my friend? A warm bubble appears in my chest. This golden haired guy glances at me for a second. “Yes, I am.” A creature inside me purrs satisfied. 

“In that case, I advise you to take him home and practice with his memory.” The doctor writes something down. “Talking, excursuses for the brain, show him some photos, visit familiar place in which you’ve been together.” As he finishes writing he smiles to me. “Don’t worry, you will be fine before you even know that.”

I’ve noticed a name written on my card “Grantaire”. I think about it. Sounds so strange to me.

When I look up, the doctor has already gone. “I am sorry.”

Enjolras sits on the chair, his face expression unreadable for me. “For what?”

“For being a burden to you.” He frowns. “I am not your friend, am I?”

He looks right in my eyes, invading my soul or what it is behind them. “I want to help.”

I chuckle and only now notice that my right arm is covered with bandages. “Grantaire?”

“I think it suits you.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

We just stare at each other for some minutes. Or hours. I don’t want him to look away. But I can see a battle in his head. It reflects on his face. 

“You do not need to be here, if it is a reason why you are so worried, Enjolras.” I try to sit, but have been immediately stopped by his hand. His gaze’s so sharp, that I literally feel it on my skin. “All in all I am just a stranger to you.”

The words pin Enjolras from the inside, revealing the pain they’ve caused.

“Leave you here? With amnesia? What a good idea.” I watch his face. Study actually. He squeezes my hand.

“It hurts.”

“Oh.” He quickly drops my left arm, which he’s been holding after my attempts to shift myself into a more comfortable position.

“Know what?” Enjolras shakes his head as I speak. “I hope I can draw.” His thin brow rises again. “Because I’d very like to draw you, Apollo.”

Enjolras’s lips’ corners curl into a small smile, which he hides. “Don’t call me that. And you need to rest, Grantaire.” He reaches for the blanket and covers me with it, touching my neck accidently, giving me goosebumps.

A sudden flash of light inside my head hit me forcibly; darkness appears in front of my eyes. An image of an unfinished portrait appears in front of me. When I close my eyes, I can see it better, like a photo. But I can’t indentify who is pictured on the canvas. 

“Who are you, Enjolras?” I ask quietly, watching his face and his determent look. 

“Rest.” He simply replies, sitting back on his chair next to my bed. 

 

As Grantaire falls asleep Enjolras puts his face in hands and rubs his eyes. If the sleeping man could see him in this moment, then he would notice the desperation in his actions. He glares at Grantaire, his lips moves as he is saying something silently. Then he jerkily stands up, pulling out his phone, just at the moment when it starts vibrating, indicating a call. Enjolras rushes to the door.

“Hello.” The voice on the other side sounds worried. “How is R?”

“Bad, he has amnesia.” Enjolras leans against the wall. “Don’t even remember his name.”

A whistle. “That’s bad indeed. And what about you?” When Enjolras doesn’t response, the voice continues. “Ehm… anyway, when are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow.” He runs his hand through his hair and closes eyes. “Don’t tell him anything.”

“Why? I thought you wanted Grantaire to recover quickly.”

“I do want, Marius, but_” Enjolras bits the lower lip and takes a deep breath. “What would you do if you and Cossette had that what happened between us? Wouldn’t you like to try to fix everything, to start from the beginning?” he sounds miserable. “To be forgiven.”

“No. Overcoming difficulties together is what relationship means.” The cold reply sounds in the Enjolras’s phone. “You are cruel. You deliberately make him forget all of the good things that you had. Just because he once failed and you made a mistake .” Silence falls. “All of evenings you’ve spen_”

“I have to go. See you tomorrow, Marius. ” he ends call quickly, shaking with different emotions, he has never witness in himself before.


	2. If I had a heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius after his call to Enjolras remembers days before Grantaire and Enjolras were friends. Mean while, when R wakes up in the hospital, he feels himself broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. English is still my second language.
> 
> I've written this chapter really fast, because, truth to be said, I enjoy writting this) But not sure if I should continue this.
> 
> Any way, if you haven't hear about Julian Assange, he is an Australian hacker who revialed many goverment's secrets. That caused a reaction in the whole world. Currently Mr. Assange is hinding in the Ekwador embessedary. The USA's, UK's and Sweeden's goverment want his death. 
> 
> More information will give our dear, old Wikipedia, if you are interested. --> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_Assange
> 
>  
> 
> Bradley Manning - an American soldier, who gave secret information about the american army in Iraq to Julian Assannge. Now he is in prison, wating for the court. There is a possibility that he will be executed.
> 
>  
> 
> "If I had a heart" a song by Fever Ray

As Enjolras hung the call, Marius sighs and looks at the window. 

When Les Amis has appeared? Long ago, like it’s been always here. I know Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Eponine, Joly, Jehan for ages. And of course R. My whole Uni life is connected with these people.

And with Cossette.

There is a photo in his laptop with Cossette and himself. They are sleeping on the same couch, their legs tangled, Cossette’s head resting on his chest and even in her sleep, she is smiling. 

Combeferre made this photo last month when all of them were on holidays in Marius country house.

As he thinks about the girl, on his freckled face appears a genuine smile. Cossette is not just a girlfriend for him. It’s his life. She is a part of him.

The same I can say about Grantaire and Enjolras.

 

He sits on the very edge of the windowsill and thinks. 

 

He remembers one day, when all of them had the History class (they are in different faculties, but History – is a common subject to all of them). The topic was the Human rights Freedom of speech.

Enjolras, who just started a student organization, sit with shine in his eyes. He loved that class, usually making lots of notes and after lectures he could spend an hour or two with their Professor – Monsieur Valjean, Cossette’s father, discussing different aspects of the modern history.

When Marius, who was sitting next to Enjolras, turned his head, he noticed a dark- haired guy- Grantaire, who was an Art student, whose works which usually were signed as “R”. He waved his hand and smiled to him.

Grantaire winked and showed a paper with a sketch on it. When Marius narrowed his eyes, he saw himself, hugging Cossette. The picture looked lovely and warm. R chuckled as he watched the reaction and then passed it to him, but Marius noticed another piece of paper near R. He was not sure, but it looked like a figure of Enjolras, but he, of course could be wrong.

As Marius quietly thanked him and returned back to the Human rights, he didn’t see Grantaire, looking at Enjolras with strange gaze. 

 

The lecture ended and Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire and Joly joined Marius and Enjolras.

“Are there going to be a meeting today?” Courfeyrac asked, as he walked near the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC.

“Yes, in two hours. I have an idea, because of the recent accident with a journalist in Siri…”

“Yeah, yeah, we know and we are not on the meeting right now, so let’s talk about something good and nice, shall we?” Courfeyrac grinned and shouted loudly. “GRANTAIRE!!! Are you coming??”

Enjolras frowned as he saw R walking to them through the crowd of students, who hurried in their business. The tired figure of Grantaire with dark skin under his eyes appeared in front of them.

Marius noticed a strange hostility on Enjolras face, which he couldn’t understand. Grantaire was not that bad. Well, he drank sometimes, but everyone had their own problems. 

Grantaire smiled and patted Courfeyrac’s shoulder. “What is it, my merry friend?” he met Enjolras gaze. “Hello, there, Apollo.”

The coldness in the gaze of the golden-haired man was so visible, that Joly whistled quietly. 

R only shrugged and talked again. “So?”

“In two at Musain. You are in?” 

Grantaire smirked. “How can I refuse?”

“Beware, Grantaire.” Enjolras said seriously as they walked pass the University Library. “We are going to be busy, I don’t want to hear you drunk madness again.”

“As you wish. But I thought you are a defender of Freedom of speech.” He yawned lazily, in his voice sounded a mockery as he spoke. “Seems like I was wrong.”

A shade of anger appeared on the leaders face, but he said nothing and the group of people continued walking down the stairs.

As they reached the front door, Enjolras quickly went away, not turning back. Grantaire walked another way, a piece of paper, which he threw in the bin, missed it and fell on the floor. No one except Marius noticed that, so he picked up the crumpled sheet and examined it. It was indeed a picture of Enjolras. His eyes looked so real. Beautiful, but cold, like a winter sun. 

Marius watched the retreating figure of R. 

 

Two hours later Enjolras stepped to the café Musain, shivering from the cold outside. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw his friends: Combeferre was sitting near the window with his notebook on his laps, reading an article with a serious face. Jehan was chatting with Courfeyrac, who was lying on two chairs, his head on Jehan’s knees, laughing loudly from time to time, Cossette was showing Marius her new phone, as he watched her with love-drunk eyes. Enjolras doubted if he understood a question which Cossette asked him twice. Her blonde hair was falling on her shoulders and Marius played with one lock. 

“Enjolras!” Bahorel came with bottles of beer and cup of coffees in his hands. Everyone waved hands and cheered to their leader.

Enjolras smiled, feeling himself home. 

“Bradley Manning is under charge now. The maximum possible prison sentence for this charge is 52 years. It was announced that the original charges were added to another 22, the maximum penalty for one of them can be a death sentence.” 

The silence fell as Combeferre read the article aloud. All of them were supporters of WikiLeaks and the work Julian Assange was doing. Bradley Manning revealed a large amount of secret documents and sent them to WikiLeaks. Enjolras sit on the nearest chair and thought. 

“I hope the international discussion, debates and reforms. If it does not, then we (humanity) are doomed as a species.” Enjolras quoted him quietly.

“ I am tired of being stuck in the secrets, which governments spread everywhere successfully. Censorship. ” the leader stood up. “Our University magazine was closed, because of unappropriated articles we’ve asked them to public. We talk about the corruption in our government and conditionals in which people in suburbs live.” His eyes flicker. 

Courfeyrac sat on the chair and took a sip of his beer.“Why didn’t they public your last work, Jehan?”

Jehan looked sadly at Courfeyrac then at Enjolras. “Because I wrote about a homosexual couple and how people react on their relationship: baseness in their actions and pure disgust to those who are bit different then they are.” he sighed. “Too cruel and nobody would be interested in such topic. That what they said.”

Enjolras snorts disdainful. “It is the role of good journalism to take on powerful abusers, and when powerful abusers are taken on, there's always a bad reaction.”

“That’s a quote of Julian Assange” they heard the voice at the corner of the café. Enjolras turned his head to see Grantaire with a glass of wine in his hand, coming to them. “Assange’s greatest problem is that he ruins, but gives nothing back.” Grantaire sat on the edge of the table across Enjolras.

Cossette, caressing Marius’s cheek took a deep breath. He told her his concern about those two. Enjolras and Grantaire were two absolutely different types of people. The second one was cynical and a nihilist, the opposite of Enjolras, in whom lived high spirits of freedom.

“He is broking the faith of people in the government.” He crooked his head. “Why? We all know that there are nothing good left in the modern society. What’s the point to remind us of all the dirty secrets that presidents and ministers hide?”

Enjolras bit his inner side of the cheek, trying hard not to roll his eyes. “He is showing on his own example, the importance of truth. Many people raised and changed the political situation in their countries.”

Combeferre shook his head as Grantaire continued. “Don’t tell me you mean Arab Spring. ”

Enjolras stood up jerkily and made a step to R, looking at his face. “I am talking about the protest in which we are involved now. I am talking about our meetings and ideas we spread.” his voice sounded dangerously calm. “We fight for the free journalism. We explain people the basis of Human Rights_”

“It would be better, if you give them homes and food.” The cynic’s lips curled into a bitter parody on a smile. “Everyone can talk, Apollo. Actions are rare.”

Courfeyrac glanced at Marius and they both agreed that there were two possible scenarios. Or Enjolras hit R or he would do nothing, because he considered himself cleverer. 

Combeferre looked back at the screen of his notebook. Grantaire wasn’t right. Well not about everything. Enjolras gave lots of money to their organization, “the Society of Action”, whose work in helping of those who didn’t have education and roof above their heads, was already noticed by the Paris newspapers and TV channel. But Enjolras’s main efforts were aimed on the fight for Freedom of speech and freedom of journalism.

The golden-haired leader stood still. He shook his head. “Do you believe in anything?”

Grantaire’s ironic smile faded a bit. “Yes.”

Enjolras laughed humorlessly. “Really? You, a person, whose absence of moral core and moral sharp bend lead only to alcoholism and_”

“In you I believe.” 

Enjolras froze. 

Grantaire sighed and turned away, walking slowly to the exit. As the door closed everyone tried not to look at each other. They felt themselves guilty for being present there and listening what Grantaire said. 

He walked home, ideas of a new picture popping in his head; a rain started, cold drops fell on his cheeks. 

Grantaire thought of something. Maybe he recalled Enjolras’s last remark.

“A person, whose absence of moral core and moral sharp bend lead only to alcoholism… ” 

The student sighed once again and took a cigarette. A dim light from the lighter lit his face and a moment later, smoke hid it. Grantaire walked quickly. Then ran, knocking people, without even noticing them.

He couldn’t remember when he arrived home. It was dark outside. His haired smelt of cigarettes’ smoke and alcohol. 

 

It was 3.00AM in the morning, when R walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There stood a bottle of a cheap wine. He grabbed it and then walked back to his small room. 

 

The condition of the room was poor indeed, though it didn’t troubled Grantaire at all. In that mess, he knew exactly where his stuff was lying. 

He scanned the place, thinking about something, eyes flickered, his chest fell and rose quickly. He opened a bottle and made several sips. It tasted horrible. Sometimes R asked himself why he drank so much. The same answer came to him. 

 

He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Near him laid gouache and a piece of paper. Grantaire almost desperately grabbed those and started painted. His actions were sharp at the beginning, but slowly became calmer. 

Then his mind changed again: he threw papers and the brush away, standing up, searching for the wine. His hands were shaking and the bottle accidently fell on the floor, breaking into pieces. 

“Great.” He muttered and noticed blood on his right arm. 

Bleeding arm, lack of wine, bad mood, Enjolras who was always annoyed with him, time, that he was wasting. Everything stuck inside his skull. Grantaire stood still for some minutes.  
~~~

 

Marius rubs his eyes. His phone beeps. A message from Cossette.

Enjolras still didn’t say anything to him?x

He looks at the name “Cossette”. He wants to hug her so much.

No. He doubts. Afraid, I’d say. X

Don’t blame him. They will be fine. X

 

~~~

When I wake up it’s dark outside. Carefully I sit up. Carefully, but not because of the ache, but because Enjolras is sleeping, curled on the hospital chair. I reach for my blanket and cover his shoulders. Then I notice his sleeping face expression and shiver. If he has been awake, he’d probably cry. I hesitate. Maybe he is having a bad dream. 

I’ve never felt myself so alive, it’s a strange feeling. 

I look at Enjolras’s face. I think I am a pessimist. Or maybe a nihilist. Anyway, I am someone who is not worth him. I’d like to touch his hand, to feel its warmth. 

I hope he’s loved me back, before all of this.


	3. A sunlight in a jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras leave the hospital, both of them have their own demons in their heads. Meanwhile Gavroche, Courfeyrac, Marius and Combeferre try to help two friends, who are lost in the depth of memories and thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a mention of "Liberty Leading the People" by Eugène Delacroix which can be found in Louvre. It's indeed a very impressive work. wiki/Liberty_Leading_the_People .
> 
> Also in the next chapter I'll include Marius/Cosette fluff, because those two are adorable.
> 
> Many thanks for the reading, do pardon my English, I am really trying hard not to do mistakes, but they are still presence in this story.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and "Guitar Hero" in which play Gavroche and Courfeyrac is a game, in which players use a guitar-shaped game controller to simulate playing lead, bass guitar, and rhythm guitar across numerous rock and other songs wiki/Guitar_Hero And Courfeyrac sings a part of the song from the musical "Catch me if you can", where played Aaron Tveit))
> 
>  
> 
> "A sunlight in a jar" song by the Lucksmiths
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading)

A warm, gentle spring sun's light dances on the face of Enjolras, slowly waking him up. He's been sleeping on a chair, curled into a blue hospital blanket, three, plastic coffee cups stand near him on the floor.

Then, suddenly, Enjolras wakes up, like if someone slapped his face. Confusion on his sleepy face lasts only for a second. He rubs his eyes quickly and realizes that R isn't in the ward.

"Grantaire?" he jumps from the chair and gathers around. The man, who doesn't remember his own name, everything can happen to him.

But they are, of course, in the hospital, which is full of doctors and nurses, but that thought hasn't assured Enjolras. When he rushes to the door and opens it forcibly, he almost knocks down Grantaire who's been entering it.

"Where the hell have you been?" Enjolras asks, in his deep brown eyes is a mix of fear and anger.

Grantaire remains silent for a second, realizing that he is standing face to face with Enjolras. The realization of that brings a huge smile on his face. "Good morning."

The sincerity in those words disarmed Enjolras completely. He sighs and makes a step back, letting the Art student to come in. "So where have you been?" he asks again, walking to the window to open it.

"I wanted to find you a flower, but they only have croissants." Grantaire answers and shows a small package in his arms.

Enjolras turns. A sun curiously peeks into the open window. "Then I should find a vase." He takes a package, watching Grantaire carefully.

R climbs on the bed and yawns. "I want to go out of here. These doctors don't help."

As the words slip his lips the door of the ward opens again and a doctor enters. "Morning, gentlemen." He nods to Enjolras and then comes to Grantaire. "I've watched you walking around the hospital. Happy to say, that you don't have problems with your short-term memory." He takes R's medical card, which hangs on the bed. "That means, that you are not going to forget what is happening to you now, but still have problems with your past memories."

"Is it good?" Enjolras asks.

The doctor nods, writing something down; Grantaire doesn't listen them. He looks away, with different emotions in his eyes. "It is better to his recovery. He won't be under the threat of being lost in the city, once he receives information and data, because the accident hasn't touched cortex."

Ink-haired man asks, still looking away. "And what about skills? I mean_" he turns his head to look at the medical man. "If I used to draw or play on a musical instrument, will I be able to do that again? Will I remember that?"

"You see, you have a dissociated amnesia : psychological cause as opposed to direct damage to the brain caused by head injury, physical trauma or disease." He pauses, waiting for questions. "In this case, facts about own personality and personal life are forgotten, but a universal knowledge remains."

Grantaire glances at Enjolras, feeling that his own gaze reveals the pain he is feeling. Trying to remember his memories, it's like trying to catch sunlight in a jar. He's missed what the doctor has said at the beginning. "...inability to retrieve information that was acquired before a particular date, usually the date of an accident. You have to come here at the end of the next month, because I need to see if you need any other help."

"Surely, I will come." Grantaire answers, hoping that they will leave this hospital as quick as possible. The calmness in the doctor's voice annoys him so much. Enjolras notices sarcasm in his voice, the same one e used to hear in Grantaire's remarks before the accident.

"Then I wish you good luck." He smiles, nods to Enjolras and leaves.

Enjolras looks down at his hand in which he is holding the croissant, then his gaze travels to Grantaire's face. A second later both of them chuckle and Enjolras unpacked it and bites. "Tasty. " he says, licking his lips. "Thank you."

Grantaire grins. "You're welcome." He jumps down and walks to the chair, where his clothes are.

The other man notices in time how Grantaire tries to dress himself with his bandaged hand. "Wait, I'll help_" Enjolras steps to Grantaire, but he has already worn his t-shirt.

"Thanks, but I can manage." Grantaire pauses, but then looks at Enjolras with wide open eyes. "Although, you can help me. I've forgotten how to tie the shoelaces."

Both of them look at the red converse standing near the chair. "That's awkward." Grantaire mumbles. "But I really can't remember that stuff."

A small smile appears on Enjolras's lips, making Grantaire's cheeks burn. "Well, after all you have amnesia, there is nothing strange." R sighs and reaches for his jeans.

"Still this sucks."

Enjolras chuckles and bites his croissant, waiting for Grantaire, who is wearing his jeans. He observes the slim figure of the man in front of him. Suddenly the sugar on his tongue becomes bitter as some thoughts cross his mind.

"Done." R rubs his cheek, looking at his bare feet.

Enjolras puts away the package and squats down, helping Grantaire with his shoes. R watches him upside down; really don't care that he can't remember the basic knowledge, like tying the shoelaces. He just watches Enjolras's hands. "Do you have a girlfriend?" he suddenly asks.

Enjolras stops and picks his head up. "No. why are you asking?"

"Nothing, just wondering." The reply comes too fast along with a quiet sigh of relief.

"That's better." Enjolras says, standing up, breaking the silence. "Are you hungry? We can have a breakfast in my place, I think in the fridge must be something eatable."

R shrugs, reaching for his bag. "Why not? Hope you have coffee. I think I love coffee." He thinks that this golden-haired man can help him more than the whole hospital.

They walk out of the ward. "And cigarettes. Did I use to smoke?"

Enjolras answers without hesitation. Grantaire hems doubtfully as the stops in front of the elevator. The door opens with a quiet sound and two men step inside almost simultaneously. The leader of the friends of ABC glances at the man near him: a thoughtful expression on the face, makes his heart clenches.

"Grantaire?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, come on."

 

 

Courfeyrac closes his facebook account and launches Skype, calling Combeferre and Marius. "Hello, guys." He grins as two faces appear on the screen.

Combeferre sleepy yawns and nods to him and Marius waves his hand.

"Are we planning to make a reunion party?" he asks making a sip of tea from the big cup.

Marius frowns. "I think no."

The two other men stare at him. "Why not?" Courfeyrac asks confused. "Personally I am tired of them dancing around each other. Drama queens."

"I agree, Enjolras's been an idiot." But as Marius remains frowned, Courfeyrac rolls his eyes.

"What now?"

"Enjolras has asked me not to tell R anything." Combeferre presses his index finger and thumb to his nose bridge and Courfeyrac chokes with the tea.

"What?"

Marius sighs and Combeferre answers. "Well, after all, who are we to blame him. It is their own business."

"Madness! Grantaire loves Enjolras and he loves him back! Yes, R once drank too much and burst in the middle of Enjolras exam, shouting that he loved him." Marius looks away and Combeferre runs his hand through the hair. "So what?! He apologized! He suffered! Oh, come on! With all respect, guys, we all agree with me that Enjolras sometimes can be really an ass."

Suddenly another person tries to join their call - a contact called "Gavroche".

" 'ello, mates." A huge grin of a teen with blond hair appears on the whole screen. "A party tonight, yeah?"

Courfeyrac always likes this kid, enthusiastically nods, but Marius protests. "Enjolras will not say thanks to us. We do not have the right!"

The silence fall. "I don't know, what is happening inside their heads. Maybe I am a goof, because I am honestly do NOT understand them at all." Combeferre chuckles, looking at Gavroche's determined face. "But, I have more serious business."

"What's it?"

The kid sighs heavily. "My father is drunk again and he threw me on the street. Aaand, I am hungry. Courf, can I come to you?"

"Sure. I have bacon with eggs." Marius smiles. The bromance between those two are just adorable.

"But, I think you should call Enjolras once again, Marius." Combeferre says, ducking under his table to pick up his pen, disappearing from the screen for a moment. "Maybe, he has changed his mind."

"Yeah, you must try." Gavroche sneezes loudly. "Sorry, chaps. Courfeyrac, I will come in fifteen minutes. See you all later. In Enjolras's place, I hope."

 

 

Grantaire and Enjolras walk down the street, the sun warming their faces. One of two of them hides a battle in his head. He wants to tell that he is sorry, that sometimes he valued his work more than their relationship, but he regretted, he was scared to death when he heard what the other one did, because of him, he wants to tear the silence between them with his own cry, to hug and whisper that he is sorry again and again.

But on the other hand, Grantaire now is smiling, walking near him, without knowing that he used to be an alcoholic, that he smoked nearly two boxes of cigarettes per day…Without remembering the taste of my lips on his, without realizing how important he is…

"Enjolras?" Grantaire slightly pats his shoulder. "You are alright?"

"Yes, I am fine." A thought comes to his mind: what if he said all of that aloud, instead of thinking?

Twenty minutes later they've reached Enjolras's apartment. Grantaire examines the place around him. He touches the front door as the golden-haired student opens it.

 

 

 

Gavroche walks outside the shop centre with free wi-fi, where he was talking with Courfeyrac, Marius and Combeferre. His laptop lies in the small grey rucksack on his back. He makes an angry face, looking at the sky, which has successfully started pouring the rain.

After some minutes, the kid or it is correctly to say the teen, because Gavroche is fourteen now, shivers with cold. When his dear father began his drank terror on him, Gavroche ran away, just grabbing his laptop and dark blue hoodie. But because of the rain, it has soon become heavy and wet, giving him shivers. Gavroche wipes his nose and runs down the street.

As he walks he sings a song, not caring the curious gazes of the people, passing him by. Despite everything he has a good mood. When in the house of his parents troubles start, when Tenardie – his father, decides that Gavroche is a reason of all his problems, he runs away. Knowing exactly, that there is place, where he is welcomed.

He calls it home. His real home. He loves Courfeyrac, who is learning him how to play on a guitar. They spend hours and hours just singing and playing their favorite music.

Courfeyrac is nineteen and very often Gavroche wonders why doesn't he has a girlfriend. Maybe because he is busy, composing his own music and songs, busy, supporting Enjolras, Marius, Combeferre, Joly and others.

And me.

After all, we are all freaks in ABC.

 

 

Grantaire make an uncertain step inside the apartment and a wave of new flashbacks hit his entire body. He unconsciously presses his hands to his head.

The problem with such flashback is that they are blurring, he can't catch the faces of people in them.

Enjolras watches him. "Grantaire?" he touches his forearm. "Come on, sit here and I'll bring you a glass of water."

Grantaire obeys, following the Politics student almost blindly. He sits on the very edge of the chair, breathing heavily, his chest aching. He barely notices sounds of the other man steps and the water running.

When his lips feel the cool water it becomes easier to breathe. Then his gaze focuses on Enjolras.

"Better?"

Grantaire nods, lying easily. How can I feel myself better, when I am like a kid, lost in the big supermarket.

Enjolras, who no doubts, has noticed the lie in his reply, sighs and walks to another room. R closes his eyes, his heart beating loudly.

"I bring you spare clothes." Enjolras returns with a grey t-shirt on which is a picture of panda playing on a guitar and dark blue trousers.

Grantaire tiredly takes them and smiles. Then he thinks that this t-shirt doesn't match Enjolras's style. He is…R looks at the t-shirt again. He can't wear a t-shirt with panda playing on a guitar. Enjolras wears jackets and trousers and ties_

That's interesting.

Enjolras says something about tea and breakfast and goes away, leaving Grantaire on his own for a minute.

The t-shirt has a smell of the washing powder, but it can't hide a smell of cigarettes with a hint of alcohol. Grantaire has smelled that before. His own clothes smell like that.

His heart beats faster.

"Can I help?" Enjolras hears R, as he closes the fridge.

Enjolras watches Grantaire in that silly t-shirt, which he's never liked before. Now it looks natural and suitable. To have R back at his home is good. The best of feels, more amazing than the excitement of his meetings and realization of the success of "the Society of Action". But still he is feeling himself guilty.

"No, it's fine. I_" he freezes as Grantaire makes a strange movement. He steps to Enjolras and hugs him: desperately and loving, clenching the fabric of the red jacket on his shoulders.

"I don't know what I am doing, but please let me stay like this for a second." He says quietly, enjoying the smell of the blond hair.

Enjolras hugs him back, resting his head on the shoulder of R. Does it mean he remembers, that his memories have returned? Probably no. But_

Grantaire sighs in the shoulder. "That must be awkward to you."

Enjolras smiles, rubbing Grantaire's back. "I don't mind."

The microwave gives out a loud "ding!" making both of them jump and moment later they break the embrace. Grantaire eyes shines and Enjolras realizes that the ache in his chest's become lighter. Like if he has apologized and has been forgiven.

They stay in silence for a moment. "Breakfast, right?" Grantaire asks, trying hard not to grin, as Enjolras nods.

How, on Earth he can remain that calm and serious?

Enjolras walks to the table and reaches for the knife in order to slice some cheese. "Please, pass me plates, they are_" Grantaire has already opened a cupboard above the sink. As the Art student turns he meets a confused face of the man in front of him.

"I've just made a guess." He honestly replies, passing Enjolras two big plates.

This drives Enjolras mad. He can't tell, what his friend is thinking. Does he remember or does he discover everything from the beginning? If he remembers then why he is not angry?

 

 

Gavroche, shaking badly, his hair, soaking, knocks the door several times. "Come'n Courf, I am freezing. COURFERAAC!" he knocks the door again.

He leans against it and closes his eyes. "I am so cold_Heey?!"

As the door suddenly opens, Gavroche falls inside, Courfeyrac, who hasn't expected that has tried to catch him, but_

"Oh, thanks a lot, my dear." The teen rubs his knee as Courfeyrac helps him to stand up.

"Sorry, Gavroche, I've been making you some coffee and haven't heard_ Holly Wikipedia, you are so cold!" he takes the bag and drags the boy to the living-room. "Take that off and wear my t-shirt, no, wait! I'll bring you a towel, you are soaking!" he runs to the bath-room. "Come, to the kitchen and drink something hot!"

Gavroche chuckles loudly. "Easy, Mommy, I am fine." But he can't deny that he is pleased. The smell of an excellent coffee and toast calls him to the kitchen, while his stomach makes pitifully sounds. Courfeyrac with a towel in his one hand and t-shirt in another, enters moment later.

"Here you go, kid."

Gavroche thankfully takes dry clothes and changes quickly, still freezing. "Ooh, that's better." He wipes his hair, watching his friend pouring coffee into two mugs. As he finishes that, he collapses on the chair and grins to the student.

"Courfeyrac." The older boy looks questioningly at Gavroche. "I want to see Grantaire. I've missed him."

Courfeyrac carefully passes the mug and a sandwich. "I don't know if we can see him today. Enjolras needs some time for_"

"It's been three weeks!" Gavroche bites an enormous piece of a sandwich. "It's been more than enough, don't you think?" he chews and grins as he notices Courfeyrac watching him. The student giggles, but then sighs.

"Maybe tomorrow." Gavroche rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I know. But." He points at the blond teen. "Today, we are going to_"

"Play "Guitar Hero"?" the eyes of Gavroche flicker.

"Yup. Let's play the Beatles."

Gavroche chokes with the coffee and started coughing badly, Courfeyrac patting his back. "The Beatles? My grandpa must have listened that!"

"Careful, kid! I bet you will like it!"

"Nope." Gavroche licks his lips and glances on the table, scanning it to find another sandwich.

Courfeyrac sighs and says in dramatic voice. "Gavroche. Not to like The Beatles is such a crime." He quietly puts his hands on the teen's shoulders. Gavroche hasn't noticed that because he has found chocolate biscuits. "I've warned you." And all that suddenly he tickles him, making Gavroche drop all the biscuits he's been holding.

"STOP! COURFEYRAC, YOU WILL, HAHAHA, STOP IT! REGRET THIS!"

"Play the game, just keep 'em guessin' ! Fixin' matchbe, try to catch me, if you can!" Courfeyrac sings, running away from the kitchen, laughing, Gavroche following him.

 

 

This day has passed and brought warm feeling to many of the ABC friends: Marius's come to Cosette, where her father, she and Marius have been painting the walls all together. Jean Valjean truly likes young Marius Pontmercy and his faith in people never betrays him. Combeferre with Feuilly in translation of some polish texts, but considering the fact that his knowledge in Polish language is as large as Grantaire's ability not to say anything sarcastic, he's been mostly distracting Feuilly rather than helping, but they have had fun. Gavroche and Courfeyrac've been singing and playing and the teen has admitted that eventually he liked The Beatles.

Enjolras and Grantaire have spent their day in exercises: R has asked Enjolras to ask him questions about Art, because he's been sure that previously he has used to know a lot about it. So together with Wikipedia Enjolras's been showing him masterpieces of different ages and Grantaire, in return, has been telling the leader interesting facts about them.

As the evening's come, Grantaire tiredly yawns and stretches himself on the sofa. "Enjolras?"

The leader of the ABC, who's been tiding something on his desk, turns his head.

"What is it?" R's holding a book, the History of France in XIX century. As he opens it, a piece of paper falls on his knees.

There is an image of lady, drawn in bright, national colors. "This reminds me "La Liberté guidant le peuple", but_" he looks closer, narrowing his eyes. "A strange parody on that."

Enjolras spins around, his heart sinking.

In the masterpiece of Eugene Delacroix, there is pictured a woman, personifying Liberty, leading the people forward, holding the flag of the French Revolution. But in this version, which Grantaire is holding now and examing carefully, Liberty is not leading people, but more likely using them as a shield, on her face is hypocrisy and sarcastic smile is very visible.

Grantaire's eyes widen as he notices a small letter "R" in the corner. Another flashback fills his head.

 

 

Can it be you afraid of death?Pretending, as ifyou have achanceto change the world.The only thingyou haveistime.Life is atwo-facedJudas, which wants youtofall,to break,to lose. Speeches? Words? Try toamuse thefate. Act? Oh yesitcan.It willchangeeverything, won't it? Oh, I've forgotten. The Universe doesn't care! And what about yourself?How to cure your heart?How to fillthe shell, that you are calling as "the body"?

My heart is beatingby inertia.Can thetouch of my hands make youwarm? No,because yourbrain haswon.You've decided so. You've said it would bebetter for all. Did you think how it will be for me?

Now myheartis quiet,it was ordered to be quiet. You forbade me to love.

What is left to me? Wine and cigarettes, maybe some pencils and papers. I amdrowning, with no hope left.

Doyou really think,you can youchange the world, the society? Whatdemons doyoukeepin a cage of your ribs? Now I'll never know, Enjolras.

But, you've ruined the lock, ribs won't hold and I'll lose. You play with me, your eyes are killing me, slowly, like playing, enjoying my suffers.

In my eyes – eyes of a madman, you said, there is no fire left, only dust of what used to be_.

 

 

Grantaire gasps, not sure what was that. Probably his memories. He looks at Enjolras, who sits near him.

"Why don't you ask me?" Enjolras's voice sounds desperately. "I will tell you. Everything what you want."

R sits silently, looking at Enjolras's hands, a lump in the throat. "I don't want to know now." He sighs and stands up. "Please, tell me where I can sleep, I am so tired."

 

When Enjolras returns to the room, he turns of the light and sits on the floor. He sits lonely for an hour, or maybe two, without movements.

But then, a strange, invisible force makes him stand up and walk to the small bedroom, where he left his friend. With some fear, he opens a door and makes a step inside. In the darkness he blinks several times, trying to get used to it. After some moments he notices the figure of R, curled on the bed. Enjolras walks to him and climbs on the bed, trying very and very hard not to wake the sleeping man. He entwines his left hand around Grantaire's waist, hiding his face to the back of his neck and dark curls.

"I love you. And always been loving you."

Grantaire lays still, his heart beating loudly. He can't move. He is too afraid that this is a dream.


	4. I'll be the one who brings you coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joly is sure he has found a new ilness in his own body, Eponine is singing, while Marius is listening, realizing that Eponine loved him, or maybe even is loving now and Enjolras feeling himself guilty for his actions in the past, hoping that Grantaire won't remember those. R tries really hard not to notice that he wants to smoke, like he used to do before the accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many and many thanks for reading, you are making me so happy* 
> 
> Here, in this chapter I've mentioned Adele's "Someone like you", because today've been walking, listening this song on my iPod, when I suddenly realized that it is a song about Eponine and Marius.
> 
> And the song Grantaire is singing is sung by Mark Owen – Makin you out.

Joly yawns and enters his small bath-room to brush his teeth. He rubs his eyes and stands in front of the mirror.

Suddenly the sleepy face of the Medical student becomes very excited. He remains still for a moment, analyzing his feels. Then he rushes back to his room, takes his mobile and runs back, calling Combeferre.

"Mhh?" a sleepy voice sounds in the phone.

"Ferry, I have gastritis!" Joly happily examines his tongue, than turns up his t-shirt and looks at his belly's reflection thoughtfully. "All of the symptoms are clearly visible! Are you still here?"

"Joly, for Christ sake. It's_" a sound of massive yawn. "seven a.m. on Sunday…Why on Earth do you think you've got gastritis?"

Joly sits on the edge of the bath. "Oh, believe me, I am sure. I've got all the symptoms, starting with_"

"All the symptoms. The same as you've had for lupus and сhickenpox?"

The medical student sighs sadly, like if he is talking with a child and trying to explain him that there is no Santa. "You don't understand, this time I am sure_"

"As well as you were the last one. And the previous one." Another yawn. "Come on, Joly, I want to sleep. Call Courfeyrac and tell him your pitiful story."

"Oh, so you don't want to talk with me?" he stands up and walks to the kitchen to drink some water. "What if it is the last time you speak with m_"

"Good bye, Joly."

 

 

Grantaire opens his eyes. Then memories of the last days invade his mind. He can feel Enjolras's hand on his own chest, he can hear him breathing, he can share the warms of their bodies. Grantaire looks at the person next to him.

Why did you sound so desperately yesterday? I can ask. But do I really want to know what was before?

R carefully takes away Enjolras's hand and sits on the bed, thinking. His gaze wonders around the room: even in the bedroom there is a bookshelf. Grantaire, who is still examing the room, caresses the leader's of ABC left palm with his fingertips. But then he carefully stands up and with curiosity walks around the small, but really nice apartment. It has big windows which let the sunlight to visit this place almost every day, when there are no clouds on the sky.

The art student notices a balcony and decides to open it. As he does it, a still cool spring air ruffles his dark curls. He can feel his body slowly becoming to protest. Even if his mind forgets, the body, the reflexes remind him. He used to smoke. And drink. The habits don't escape or just disappear. Grantaire tries not to notice the fact that his hands are shaking slightly. He sadly leans against the parapet, looking down, at the street of the Paris.

In many movies about Paris or when main heroes are in Paris, there is usually a strange detail: from the very window of the city's buildings the Eifel Tower can be seen.

Not true. From here I can't see it. Or maybe I just don't notice. There is someone better to observe.

A strange thought crosses his mind. He smiles at the silliness of it and steps back to the warm room, closing door behind him.

"Okay, let's see what is left in the fridge." And with different feels on his heart Grantaire walks to the kitchen. But even though, you will never say that there is something wrong with him, if you see his face. Years, that he's spent being a cynic have left their mark. All of his emotions are hidden by a face expression with a little smile, mockingly playing on his lips together with tiredness and lack of concern in his eyes.

 

Marius walks down the Rue Victor Cousin, the sight of the Sorbonne University gives him the feeling of excitement. Students are people who always are alive and react immediate. That's why "The Society of Action" won't fail, when the time will come, when they lead the action of protest, helping people to understand their rights instead of just sit in front of their laptops, rebloging stuff on Tumblr or chatting with their virtual friends on Facebook.

Marius smiles, his freckled face shines with happiness, as he enters the Luxemburg Garden. Here he first saw the figure of his Cosette: her eyes that flicker, lips that smile in such an amazing way, hair which is softer then silk.

But in his blessed, love-drunk state a sound of familiar voice, singing, reaches his ears. That sound brings him down t to earth.  
"I heard that you're settled down. That you found a girl and you're married now. I heard that your dreams came true. Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you."

A young girl sits on a bench; her long dark hair falls on her shoulders. She is beautiful, but all her figure shows that she is tired and kind of broken. But her voice is strong, like a spark inside the dying bonfire. Several people try to give her money for singing so good, but when her dark brown eye meet their, all of them realize, that this girl is not here for money, she just sings, trying to calm down her heart or maybe soul.

Marius's gaze slowly finds Eponine's. "Old friend, why are you so shy? Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light?"

Eponine sings, Marius listens and when she finishes, she looks at him once again, but then laughs and walks away, leaving a bitter aftertaste in Marius's mind.

Not in this life, not with me.

 

 

Enjolras jerks and opens his eyes. He is lying alone, in an empty bed. His heart sinks.

"I'll be the one who brings you coffee when you can't get up  
I'll be the one who turns the light out when you go to sleep  
I'll be the one who turns your stomach into something else and you say  
Shut up, shut up, every time I say."

He sighs with relief as the sounds of Grantaire's voice and the clatter of cups reach his ears. He sits on the bed, curling himself in his blanket. It looks so unreal to see Grantaire so changed. It's good, but he unconsciously feels that it won't last long. Some things can't exist another way. His dark-haired artist can't be all that nice and optimistic. It's just not his nature.

But I admire R like this. He looks truly happy.

Unwelcome thoughts invade the mind of Enjolras. Thoughts about their meeting, they're planning. Now, when he has Grantaire's and his relationship back he can't leave and it to lead the protest. He suddenly reminds himself Marius, who's been running around and telling everyone and everywhere about Cosette.

Jesus. It's my main aim, it's my duty. "The Society of Actions", friends of ABC…They all are waiting for me to give them a sign to start. The last scandal in the University with the Professor and his student…

The golden-haired leader stares at nowhere, enjoying the sound of R's voice.

"And you cut my face, I told you so  
I'd tear my eyes out for you…

Tonight, we throw ourselves away  
And we make it every time  
When I thought I was ok"

 

The memory of one particular day pops in his mind.

 

 

~~ "Enjolras, there's police coming here, calm down!" Combeferre looked at him with worried face.

Marius and Enjolras were standing on the steps near the entrance to their University, lots of students, not only members of the "Society of Action", but many others, listening to their speech.

Two days ago the University's magazine was closed and many works, some of which were truly masterpieces, were thrown away.

"They are shutting us up!" the crowd cried angrily, encouraged by the words of Marius and catching the desire to act, which Enjolras was radiating. "Giving the privileges to immigrants from Arab countries and pissing off their own citizens!"

"Don't shush our voices!"

"Since, when in Paris, a very heart of the Liberty, we are struggling through the lack of freedom?!"

Students were that part of the citizens, who could make changes, they felt the smallest manifestations of the injustice. A large amount of them have patch in French colors on their mouths, symbolizing, that they've been hushed by the government deliberately.

"Marius, come on, I see the cops!" Combeferre patted Marius's shoulder.

The mass began so sudden and quickly.

When police arrived and asked students to go back to their classes obviously no one did that. Students, tired, that they were told to do different things, literally burst their anger on the law enforcements.

The crowd rushed and the police tried to stop them, but when there was a crowd, angry and hungry for freedom, no matter what kind of freedom, it was, in fact, a real danger. Paris had seen people fighting different fights. People of Paris died for ideas.

But that particular conflict wasn't necessary. As the police Inspector appeared from nowhere near the place, where Enjolras and Marius were standing, Grantaire sighed and met the golden-haired leader's eyes.

He noticed in cynic's gaze a sad, even a bitter smile.

R suddenly rushed to the Inspector, nodding to Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who gripped Marius's and Enjolras's forearms and drugged them away, because no one would be happy if the leaders would be arrested. They could not risk.

Grantaire could not risk.

"Vive la France! La liberté et l'égalité pour les étudiants et les journalists!"

The change in the whole figure of the cynic was colossal. His usual tired gaze suddenly turned into a look of a revolutionary and his movements were sharp and determined. He stopped near the Inspector, distracting his attention from Enjolras and Marius.

"What is he doing?" Marius watched the Inspector, who violently hit Grantaire's chest, making the Art student grimaced, because of the pain. When he looked at the Inspector's face, who cuffed his hands, he laughed sarcastically. Many other students still trying to resist the police force, but were slowly losing. Marius in disbelief turned his face to Courfeyrac. "They've arrested R. For what?! He didn't even plan to come."

"Let's go from here, quickly." Combeferre glanced at Enjolras quickly and four men went away. "When it calmed down a little we'll go to the police station and pay them to release Grantaire."

Enjolras walked silently, in front of his eyes were an image of Grantaire's smile.

They released Grantaire that evening. Because after all he didn't do anything illegal, but everyone knew that Inspector Javert sometimes could be harsh.

As Courfeyrac, Gavroche and Enjolras saw R walking out from the police station, they noticed that his lower lip was split and he was limping a bit.

Gavroche ran to him and hugged the dark-haired Grantaire. "Woaw, did your cell mate do that with you?" They carefully walked to Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

Grantaire smirked. "Yeah, he wasn't very talkative." The teen and his best friend chuckled, but then sighed. "But all in all, Inspector Javert is a lovely person." His hand unconsciously moved to his chest.

"Thank you, Grantaire. That was unexpected from you, but very noble." Enjolras said, walking near the cynic.

Gavroche silently rolled his eyes and exchanged glances with Courfeyrac.

R took a cigarette from his jeans pocket and lit it. When the smoke escaped his lips he replied. "Always welcome, Apollo." The coldness in his voice could cause physical pain.

Enjolras silently walked near Gavroche, Courfeyrac and Grantaire, who was limping.

 

 

Enjolras shakes his head and quickly stands up. He is fully dressed, because yesterday he fell asleep so suddenly.

As he enters the kitchen, he freezes. Grantaire with headphones in his ears is making pancakes, singing rather loudly, probably not realizing that.

"Jesus! Enjolras!" he jumps highly as reaching for a fork he notices the other man. "I thought you were sleeping!" he puts away his iPod.

Enjolras chuckles and sits on the nearest chair. "Well, it's a bit of problematic, considering the fact that you are singing a bit too loud."

R's cheeks become red, but he mockingly bows and says. "Do forgive me. But in my defence_" he turns around quickly and takes a plate with hot pancakes. "I've made you breakfast."

Enjolras smiles and then laughs as he watches the happy face of his friend. He helps the Art student to serve the table, when he suddenly notices that Grantaire's hands are shaking badly.

R takes a deep breath, trying so hard not to think about cigarettes, but his own body betrays him. Enjolras opens his mouth to say something, but the artist shakes his head.

"I am fine. Better than I've ever been before."


	5. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion part for Les Amis. And new memories come back to Grantaire as well as new feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly inspired by the new video George Blagden has uploaded on his Youtube channel (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZMScOsHykQ) and the conversation with an amazing Ibbyliv.
> 
> Pardon my English and lack of italics, I still don't know how to use it here, on AO3

Half a year ago, before the car hit an Art Student named Grantaire, he was sitting alone in his apartment. It was a small flat with one room and a kitchen. In the room were lots of stuff, which were lying everywhere. But slowly all of the brushes, pencils, sketch notes were packed in one big backpack. A laptop lied on the floor nearby, a Starbuck's cup stood on it along with the iPod and headphones. Grantaire himself was sitting on the floor, looking around tiredly, but without even a hint of concern in his eyes.

Two hours before his phone rang and the owner of the flat said that Grantaire must leave, because he didn't pay. R didn't argue, he knew that it was fair. Living for three months without proper payment – that could end up much worse.

So he was sitting on the floor, waiting for the owner to come to take the keys. He had only twenty euros in his pocket. It was still warm outside, but he didn't want to sleep on the street. Of course it would not be the first time, but that day he wasn't ready. Grantaire reached for his phone to make a call. He hesitated.

First of all he thought about Courfeyrac. He pressed a call bottom and waited.

The number you are trying to call is not available now.

He called Gavroche and heard the same. Grantaire wondered where they could be. Ferry was on a student confrontation in Lyon, so he couldn't help. The thought about Marius crossed his mind.

"Marius?"

"Grantaire? Hello there!" a cheerful voice of Cosette replied on the other side. R silently sighed. Marius was with his Cosette. Of course he was. It was a Saturday evening, why would not he. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, I am fine. I am_ just curious where Courfeyrac and Gavroche are."

Cosette thought for a moment. "They must be in Disneyland. Oh, yeah, they told me last week that they are planning to visit it this weekend."

The front door opened and Grantaire's eyes caught a sight of the owner's figure. "Okay, I see, thanks Cosette. My greetings to Marius."

"Granta_" but he had already ended the call.

The owner of the apartment was a rather young man, who looked a bit guilty when he came to the room. Grantaire stood up from the floor and smiled to him.

"Good evening, Grantaire." They shook hands. The silence fell. "Do you have a place where to spend this night?"

R grinned. "Sure. Listen I am really sorry for all of this. I will pay you, I promise."

Another man watched Grantaire, who picked up his backpack, and replied sadly. "I know, you always pay eventually. But this time I need money right now and I have clients who_"

"Will pay you regularly, I understand." He reached for his cup and a laptop. Then Grantaire looked around, checking if he didn't forget anything. "In two month I will pay, I promise."

Both of them walked silently to the door. The passed kitchen, where Grantaire had painted a big picture of Les Amis two weeks ago. Courfeyrac was amazed when he saw it, especially he liked Joly's face expression: like he was about to sing a song about a new-founded bacteria in his stomach.

"Keys." Grantaire gave them to the owner and stepped outside.

"Do you really have a place where_"

Grantaire reached for a cigarette, holding his notebook and a cup in one hand and backpack on his back. "Sure. See you." And he walked away with a little smile, like nothing had happened.

One day, one room. Another door's closed.

He didn't notice the beauty of the sunset. Paris was golden and the warmth in the autumn air was gentle as it touched every street of the city, every park, every bench and every pigeon. Grantaire didn't notice that he smoked almost all the box. He just walked, thinking about something. His eyes were sad. And tired.

He went to the nearest Metro station. As he walked he suddenly heard someone's voice. As he turned his head he noticed Professor Valjean.

"Good evening, sir." Grantaire wanted to shake his hand, but he had so many things in his own hands, that it looked problematic a bit.

"Can I help you, Grantaire?" Jean Valjean tried to take the laptop from the student's hands, but the younger man only shook his head. The professor sighed and they walked together.

"I wasn't on your last lecture." R suddenly remembered when they crossed the road.

"I know." He replied calmly. Grantaire thought why he wasn't at home. Because Marius was with Cosette and he wanted to give them some privacy? "But it is okay, you know a lot about history."

The Art student snorted. "Why do you think so?" he tried to place his backpack more comfortably on his shoulders. Jean Valjean helped him.

"Because you annoy Mr. Enjolras so good. A man without good History education won't manage to annoy a clever person."

Grantaire stared at the Professor and then chuckled. "Huh, maybe. " he reached for his last two cigarettes and offered one, but Valjean shook his head. "But it is not my education that irritates him so much." He inhaled the smoke, feeling it bitter aftertaste. "It's my charm, alcoholism and sarcasm."

The History Professor silently walked near the student. "I saw what you did for him on the last action of the protest."

Grantaire shrugged. "The University has become a field of the battle for those who dream about a better future and the others. I think it is not right."

Jean Valjean walked silently for a moment. "In 1968 students changed the political situation in France."

Grantaire carefully rubbed his cheek with his left hand. "Yeah, but in that time people cared. They were not such passive as they are now. There were not so many glamorous teenagers or rich kids who live with a thought that they can buy everything."

"Or cynics."

R looked at Valjean and smiled slightly. "Or cynics."

"Where are you going Grantaire?"

"Nowhere."

"Why?"

"Because I am lost."

Jean Valjean thought about this young man, who was going to spend the night on the street. But he didn't say anything. Even the non-believers had their dignity.

"I'd ask you if you need any help, but I am afraid I know the answer. " Jean Valjean said quietly, more like to himself.

Grantaire jumped over the puddle on the pavement. "Thank you, sir. You are always so kind. I can't understand why. Sometimes I don't think that I understand people at all." he added. Suddenly his phone rang. With difficulties, because he didn't let the older man help him, Grantaire pulled out his phone and looked on the screen. His eyes turned into two pieces of ice. He looked powerful at that moment. But then he chuckled and put his phone back at the pocket, never answering the call.

Valjean smiled. "I had to turn here, Grantaire. Good night."

"Night, sir." He waved his hand and nearly dropped his laptop.

They walked in two different directions, but it just happened that both men thought about the same person. Grantaire sighed and tried not to think about calling back Mr. Enjolras. He was too proud. Jean Valjean however pulled out his own phone and searched for a number.

He typed a message.

Grantaire was sitting on the bench near the small café; the smell of the coffee filled his head as he was drawing people around himself. He didn't notice cold of the night or a figure of the person, standing behind him for some time.

"Grantaire?"

The artist froze and slowly turned. An explosion of the emotions inside his chest was rather big. "Hello, Apollo."

Enjolras stood near silently, but then sit near as Grantaire nodded slightly. The leader of ABC coughed a bit. "I came to say thank you. For what you did yesterday . At the protest."

Grantaire put away his scratch book. "You've already apologized, if I am not mistaken."

Enjolras crooked his head. "Yes, I did. But I realized one thing. It's just because of your lack of the faith. Sometimes you just drive me mad. But you are not a bad person." R laughed humorless.

Grantaire changed his pose and sit on his right leg. "You despise me, because I am an alcoholic. Don't argue, okay?"

For the first time Enjolras did as Grantaire said. That made R laughed again. The golden haired man watched him. "Why are you sitting here?"

"Here I can draw different people, trying not to understand who they are."

As Enjolras didn't reply, R looked up and met his gaze. "Why are you here, Grantaire?"

"Like you are really caring for the reason."

"I do."

Grantaire ignored an ache in his heart. "Since when?"

"You don't have a place where to spend this night."

Ink-haired Grantaire looked for some time in the other eyes, his pupils change into blocks of ice. "No, I don't."

"Come with me."

"No."

A pause. "Why?"

Grantaire closed his eyes and sighed. "Because Valjean called you and said where I was and that I had problems. I met him tonight. That's why I don't need your so called help."

"Not true. I called you. You didn't pick up. Valjean only said where I could find you."

R was afraid. He was afraid to believe.

 

 

Grantaire freezes at the kitchen as a flashback hit him. Enjolras has been sitting in front of him with a concern in his eyes.

"Who is Jean Valjean?"

Enjolras rubs his neck as he replies. "It's our History teacher in the Uni." The man opposite him thinks for a second. "We are studying at the same Uni, but on different faculties. Yours is_"

"Art and yours - Journalism and Politics." Grantaire grabs a cup of coffee, waiting for Enjolras to continue.

"Yes. Jean Valjean is also father of Cosette, who is a girlfriend of Marius Pontmercy, a_"

"Waitwait, I will say myself." He sits on the edge of the chair, looking somewhere, thinking. "Ehm, he has freckles…Doesn't he?"

Enjolras chuckles and slices his pancake. "Yeah, he does. I have lots of photos; do you want to look at them?"

 

 

Courfeyrac, who has been playing Angry birds suddenly hears the sound of the Skype ringing. "Oh. GAVROCHE! IT'S ENJOLRAS!"

A teen runs from the kitchen and they answer the call. "Yeah?"

A face of Grantaire appears on the screen. "Hello?"

"Grantai_" Gavroche begins, but receive a kick under his ribs from Courfeyrac. R smiles. "Hi, there, Gavroche. Will you come to us tonight?"

The kid and the student exchange gazes and uncertainly look at the screen again. But near the face of Grantaire appears Enjolras's. "I thought you wanted to come, guys."

"Woohoo!"

"At last!"

Four people laugh.

"Have you called the others?"

Enjolras shakes his head and glances at Grantaire for a second. "Not yet."

"So we are the first ones? What an honor." Gavroche makes a seriously-proud face. "We will bring beers."

Courfeyrac and Enjolras look at each other, while Gavroche hasn't noticed anything and Grantaire ignores the recent trembles of his hands, when he thought of alcohol.

 

 

Three hours later, while Enjolras has been tiding the living-room and Grantaire's been making cocktails from ice-cream and fruits, the doorbell rings.

R hears Enjolras's "I will open!" and thinks about memories all of those people will bring him. Enjolras told him little characteristic about every one of them, but R has asked not to tell him anything more. He wants to remember it by himself.

He carefully puts down a pack of ice-cream and walks to the front door. Enjolras's been talking with a teen with blond hair and a student with dark curls. "Grantaire!" Gavroche notices him and runs forward, hugging him tightly.

Grantaire feels a strange something in his chest as he embraces the kid. "Hello, Gavroche."

"I missed you." He honestly says, looking at R, still hugging him. The art student laughs as Courfeyrac comes and says with an offended face.

"Gavroche, I am jealous!" They shake hands and been already on their way to the living room, when the doorbell rings again.

This time a freckled man, holding a hand of a beautiful young mademoiselle enters with lots of different bags from Carrefour in their free hands.

"Marius. You do really have freckles. " Grantaire chuckles as they face each other. Cosette hugs him, sighing with relief.

"I am so happy, that you have made it up with Enjolras at last." She says at his ear, but gasps as she notices Grantaire's not understanding face expression. No one sees that, so Grantaire shakes his head a bit, smiles to Cosette and takes bags from her hands. She nods him, as Marius's been laughing with Courfeyrac about something.

Enjolras together with Marius brings a kitchen table to the living-room, while Courfeyrac walks behind them with lots of cups and plates. Cosette is helping Grantaire in the kitchen and Gavroche runs from one room to another, singing loudly.

"Did he purpose you?" R asks, filling the electric teapot with water.

Cosette's cheeks become pink as she reaches for a spoon. "Not yet. He is so shy sometimes."

Grantaire laughs. "I don't remember much about him, about everyone, unfortunately, but from what I see, I can say he is a good guy." He carefully opens a big box where the chocolate cake is. "I think I like chocolate." He says, thoughtfully looking at it.

Cosette smiles and grabs forks. "Yes, you do. That's why we bought it. Come on."

Grantaire with a cake in his hands follows her, but in the corridor he nearly drops it, because of Gavroche who appears from nowhere.

"Oh, hell, 'm sorry, R!" Gavroche laughs, dancing around the dark-haired student, making him grinning like a fool, while Enjolras's b been shouting at him, asking to calm down and do something useful.

As the finally enter the living-room, the front door opens again and three figures enter, who've been arguing about something. "No, Joly, you are not, for Christ's sake!"

Grantaire recognizes Joly, Ferry and Jehan as the walk into the living-room. Courfeyrac grins at Jehan, who winks in a reply. Combeferre smiles warmly at R as they shake hands.

"I am agog!  
I am aghast!  
Is Grantaire with us at last?" Jehan sings, patting R's shoulder.

Joly comes to R and looks at him with great interest. "Grantaire, can I ask you some question, to learn more about amnesia on your example?"

Combeferre rolls his eyes, while R chuckles loudly. "Sure, Joly, in the name of science, I will do anything."

As they've been talking and laughing a small figure of a girl enters a room. Her gaze wonders to Marius, but she sighs and calls someone. Bossuet, Feuilly together with Eponine walk in.

"Hello everyone!" Bossuet waves his hand, accidently pushing down a plate, which falls with a loud "ding!"

Jehan sighs. "And yet no one is surprised Bossuet, you know that?"

"How is Poland, Feuilly?" Grantaire asks as he stops giggling.

"Niepodległa i szczęśliwa!" he answers prodly.

"Good!" grins Grantaire, having no idea what he has just said. His eyes wonder to Eponine who smiles sadly. He recalls what Enjolras has said about her and feels grief. Eponine notices that and laughs a bit, pats his shoulder and all of them walk to the table.

"Careful, people! I am opening the champagne!" Marius shouts, holding the bottle in his hands. Enjolras open his mouth to say something, but Marius has already started the process and a second later the whole river of the champagne pours on the table, while everyone tries to catch it with their cups.

Enjolras makes a mental note that they need more cups for tea.

Jehan raises his cup:

"So raise your glass if you are wrong  
In all the right ways  
All my underdogs, we will never, never be  
Anything but loud and nitty gritty, dirty little freaks!" he sings as everyone cheers happily.

"For friendship!" Gavroche cries, standing near Grantaire.

"For friendship!" they repeat cheerfully.

Grantaire has never felt himself so good.

 

Maybe I wasn't cynic before.

They've started eating, chatting with each other. Grantaire's eyes catch a sight of Joly carefully looking at his sandwich with bacon. "What's that, Joly?" Enjolras asks as he trails the gaze of R.

"I am thinking about possible salmonella in this meat." He answers seriously.

Poor Marius, who's happened to hear that, chuckled in his cup, pouring a good half of the liquid on Cosette's knees, leaving a big stain on her light blue jeans.

"JOLY!" Ferry, Courfeyrac and Enjolras cry at the same time, while Gavroche and Grantaire've been laughing with tears on their faces and Cosette tries to calm down Marius, who's been apologizing thousand times.

Ten minutes later when Les Amis managed to calm down more or less, Gavroche turns to Grantaire, who's been sitting with an absence gaze, probably thinking of a man, sitting next to him.

"R?" Grantaire snaps from his state and looks at the teen. "Will you sing something?"

"Did I use to sing?"

The blond teenager nods. "I always enjoy your singing. We all did." As he's said that his eyes wonder to the golden haired leader. Grantaire hesitates for a second, but then smiles a bit, nodding.

"Hey, shut up, everybody!" Gavroche suddenly shouts. "Thanks."

Grantaire stands up and a silence falls. He takes a deep breath.

"Baby I've been here before  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew ya  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
But love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah "

A smile disappears from the face of the cynic. The tiredness becomes visible in his eyes again, the voice sounded sad, but not bitter.

"There was a time when you let me know  
What's really going on below  
But now you never show that to me do ya  
But remember when I moved in you  
And the holy dove was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah "

The tear is running down Cosette's cheek as she holds Marius's hand. Courfeyrac sits, his arms around Jehan and Gavroche.

Grantaire closes his eyes.

"Well, maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya  
It's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah "

Enjolras can't look at Grantaire. He feels the ache of his heart. Enjolras can't breathe.

"Hallelujah , Hallelujah, Hallelujah."

It sounds like an apology, like a pray, like a confession.

When he finishes Enjolras suddenly stands up. For a second they look at each other, silent conversation between them. Grantaire smiles and Enjolras blushes.

A happy "hooray!' fills the room as Enjolras hugs Grantaire, hiding tears in his shoulder. R holds him, leaving a light kiss on his neck and hugs him even tightly.

 

I think I've always been in love with him.


	6. You. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this is only a part of the 7th chapter "You. Always". I will post the rest of it later. Thank you so much for reading, I am incredibly happy that people like this))
> 
>  
> 
> Les Amis watched one of the Bond movies "Casino Royal".
> 
> Inspired by this amazing video --> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AR17YnBO-SM

The reunion part has been great. They've laughed, sung, played silly games, watched "Casino Royal" and eventually fallen asleep in each others hands, lying on the armchairs and the sofa. Jehan is sleeping with his head on Courfeyrac's lap, hugging Gavroche. Combeferre's fallen asleep on Joly's chest, his right hand on the paranoiac's belly. How five people could sleep on a rather small couch will always be a mystery.

Feuilly's sitting near that sofa, his head is resting near Jehan's shoulder. Bossuet, curls on the floor beside him with a pillow under his head.

The tangled figures of Cosette and Marius are lying on the armchair; Marius's face is near Cosette's neck and as he breathes he tickles it.

Grantaire is sitting near another armchair, watching Enjolras breathing in his sleep. His chest rises and falls steadily. Golden curls rest on his young face. Grantaire smiles. He can't sleep. New and new memories are invading his brain. Some of them are blurring, some are short, like pieces of the broken wine glass.

He didn't drunk last night, but now his hands are trembling terribly. Grantaire feels himself as a drug addict. He bites his thumb, trying to hide a withdrawal.

His gaze travels around the room, catching the sight of his friends. As far as he can remember he was a drunkard and a cynic. He always argued with Enjolras. Why? To prove him wrong? Maybe. Or maybe because Enjolras didn't need someone to prove him right. But to prove that he is wrong, to make him, Enjolras, work harder, more desperate. Maybe Grantaire was that person. But that meant that Enjolras hated him. He must have.

The memories of the protests and riots return. Now R is waiting for the new actions. Will he join them?

He chuckles quietly, looking down at his trembling hands.

Of course he will.

Grantaire carefully shifts himself and put his head near Enjolras's chest.

"Grantaire?" a sound of sleepy voice reaches the ears of cynic.

He smiles, the darkness hiding his face. "What is it?"

"Come here. To me." Enjolras turns his head and looks at Grantaire.

"On that" R points. "armchair? It's small for one person and you are aski_"

Enjolras says something hardly understandable as he climbs down from the armchair and sits on the floor near dark-haired student. He puts his head on his shoulder, yawning. Grantaire runs his hand through the golden hair, enjoying the softness of it. They sit like that for some minutes.

"Grantaire?"

"Mhm?" he asks quietly.

"How much do you remember? Why don't you ask me? I want to help you." Enjolras whispers.

That doesn't look like Enjolras – an activist, a leader, a revolutionary. Something has changed.

"I don't want to know." He whispers in reply, caressing Enjolras's cheek by his fingertips. "I died in that accident. And now I am starting a new life." The trembling of his fingers betrays him. Enjolras presses their foreheads together, taking Grantaire's hands in his own. "You've changed, I can see that. There were many issues between us. I am sorry for hurting you, Enjolras. That's why I don't want to remember." He breathes deeply, enjoying the other man so close to himself. "I will be another. I promise I won't spoil your speeches and actions with a poison of my bloody cynicism…"

Enjolras sighs, closing his eyes, tangling his fingers in dark curls. "Shut up, I don't want you to change. Don't argue with me. Please." Grantaire chuckles in reply. "Can I kiss you?"

The heart of the cynic stops for a second. "Why are you asking me? It's not like you always did."

The golden-haired leader carefully moves forward, for a couple of centimeters and touches Grantaire's lips. The touch is so slight, but Grantaire enjoys that. Enjoys the taste of Enjolras's lips and his tongue. Enjoys his neck under his fingers, his racing heart, his whispers, his touches.

His Enjolras.

The leader of ABC slowly slips down to Grantaire's neck. He kisses him several times, tickling his skin and then pulls down on the floor and hugs tightly. R laughs quietly, trying not to wake up the rest, sliding his hand around Enjolras's waist. "Sleep. You must be tired. And drunk." He adds, smiling.

"No, I am not. Can't I just kiss you when I am sober? I am always sober, you genius."

Grantaire takes Enjoras's hand and kisses his fingers. "I just can't get used of you being this sweet and romantic. But I like it." The leader sighs and closes his eyes, resting his head on the artist's chest, listening to his heart beating. "Not like. But love. You. Always. Even when there was more alcohol then blood in my body." Enjolras runs his fingers up and down Grantaire's belly. "Will you help me? In overcoming the addiction?"

He asked that so desperately, that Enjolras has felt the pain in his voice. He looked in his eyes. "Of course."

The leader of ABC squeezes hand of his friend, feeling the slight trembling. Before the accident Grantaire never admitted that he had problems with drinking. Many things have changed. But some are the same. Enjolras still will try to change the society and Grantaire will always be there, reminding him of his human nature. 

_With his strange soul: wild, talented, a bit of broken, he reviles mine._

Enjolras listens Grantaire’s heart beating. He thinks of the protests in Greece. The Greek parliament has passed a bill which will see 15,000 state employees lose their jobs by the end of next year. The whole Europe is suffering because of the unemployment. Slowly it is going to touch their University. They have already heard about possible losses. Jean Valjean can be fired. Because of his age. Nonsense! He is the best History teacher in the whole Paris.

“Can you stop concerning and just sleep?” Grantaire chuckles with his eyes closed, his hand around Enjolras’s waist.

“I am just thinking about things that were and what are now.” The second man explains, yawning.

Grantaire just hugs him tightly in reply.

Enjolras smiles. He can’t explain what has changed him so much. Not, what. The slow realization. The constant failure in their attempts to change the political situation, to make people actually care…

_I will never understand you. The abilities of your soul to fall on the very bottom of the abyss, trying to make changes in place, where all the laws of the Universe lose their original form, hoping for a rapid raise to outrageous heights of freedom and equality. You start just like a warm, tender sun. But then you are uniting people, making companies of the soulmates, waiting for a sign, forming them, teaching, encouraging them. You start feeling time only when you are waiting, waiting for the most important, lost in the chaos of a modern life. You, Enjolras, are waiting for people to arise to follow you, to understand you and help. The only one thing that you want is to tear apart your own chest and trough it in the name of your Idea. You are not afraid of death, you don’t think about it. Enjolras, you are ignorant of fear or doubt. You are lost between the obvious and the imaginary. But you are combining the responsibilities of the individual choice with an impulse of angry men._

_Everything else doesn’t matter to you. It’s so insignificant. My arguments are so offensively logical. Admit that. I will never understand you, Enjolras. No, I will never dare to look in the depth of your soul._

Enjolras can’t say if he is sleeping and having a dream or it is Grantaire’s whispers. Maybe both.

~~  
Cosette wakes up as the sun starts dancing on her lips, stealing kisses which exist for Marius and only for him. Her beautiful blue eyes gently watch the young man, sleeping by her side. She smiles, letting the sunlight to see her happiness. Cosette carefully puts her legs down and stands up, making her way to the kitchen. Soon her friends will wake up and there will be breakfast for them. 

She walks bare feet to the kitchen, trying really hard not to sing. Cosette recalls Grantaire’s singing. That gave her chills. As the fair haired girl enters the kitchen she noticed a photo camera on the table. Cosette can’t remember anyone taking photos last night. She takes the camera and as she picks it up, her eyes catch a note, which has been lying under it. 

Cosette feel sharp pain in her chest, when she recognizes the handwriting of Eponine. On the sheet of paper are written only three words “Your happy life”. With bitter she turns on the camera. 

Combeferre, chasing Jehan, who is running away with Ferry’s glasses. 

Gavroche, yawning.

Grantaire, singing.

Feuilly with a funny face, eating a cake.

Courfeyrac, hugging Jehan and Ferry.

Enjolras’s face with strange mix of emotions. 

Marius, smiling so happily, his hand around Cosette’s waist.

That last picture is blurred, like if the hand trembled when the picture was taken. Cosette closes her eyes, breathing heavily. It’s not her fault. Marius has made his choice. She gasps, turns off the camera and hurries to make a breakfast.


	7. Lips covered in blue, white and red

Cosette Fauchelevent has been in a process of paying for a cooking book in a small bookshop. Her creamy dress emphasize the elegance of her figure. Fair hair is braided into a pigtail; as she walks past, a fresh smell of early spring grass and flowers is left by her perfume. 

 

However, Cosette isn’t just a pretty, richy girl. Besides studies, she has her own web-site, where students write her, telling their problems (many of them are about love, some about lack of inspiration, questions about where a better place to work during the summer is or what kind of flowers girls like the most.) Her advises are more like free psychologist consultations. She honestly enjoys spending her free time, helping people or just listening to their problems.

 

But this hobby never crosses Cosette’s studies, because she is very serious about them. Her faculty is the same as Grantaire’s : Art, but her specialization is Photography. Her recent work “Looking at a bicycle”- series of photographies, which showed Paris’s fashion on bikes as a nature-friendly and advantageous vehicle was published in Geo last month.

 

As she gives ten Euros to the shop assistant Claude (whom she knows for a year or so, because she is a regular client in his bookshop) she hears him sighing sadly.

 

“Have you heard the latest news, mademoiselle?” he asks, putting the book in a brown with blue stripes paper bag. 

 

“No. What’s wrong?” Cosette’s heart echoes with dull pain. “Monsieur Claude?”

 

The old seller glances at her beautiful face. “Many students don’t receive scholarship any more due to the new University policy. What is more several Professors have been fired today from the Sorbonne…Your father is one of them.”

Cosette’s lips tremble. “Papa?”

 

She turns around and runs away from the shop, leaving Claude standing alone with a book and money. For her father his work has been very important. As she, Cosette, has grown up Jean Valjean has become more self-contained, smiled less and in his deep eyes sadness has been very visible. Lectures gave him the audience of young students who listened him eagerly, because of his History knowledge and the way how he gave them information, inviting them into discussions. 

 

Cosette is afraid. The loss of the job will be a great hit for her father. 

 

With shaking fingers, she pulls her phone and presses a call bottom.

 

“Marius?”

 

The sound of her voice makes the Law student freeze. “What is it? Cosette??”

 

She takes a deep breath. “Papa was fired and many students do not receive scholarship any more. Cheek yours.”

 

The realization of the phrase makes Marius stops. “Who else knows?”

 

“No one, I’ve called you first.” 

 

Marius bites his lip, thinking. “I will call Enjolras and we will arrange the meeting in the Musain. Call your father, we need him there.”

 

Marius ends call and stands with his fingers tangled in his hair for a minute. 

 

“Enjolras?” 

 

Two young men have been sitting in front of the laptop. Enjolras tries to help Grantaire to get the access to his Facebook, Tweeter and Instagram accounts. When the phone suddenly rings both of them jump.

 

“Hello, Marius.”

 

Grantaire watches the change on the face of the leader as he speaks with Pontmercy. 

 

“Only Valjean or someone else?” Enjolras’s eyes turn into blocks of ice. “Yes, at noon. Make a post on Tweeter, call Courfeyrac and your we must spread the word.”

 

He ends a call and looks at Grantaire’s troubled face. “Do you remember who Professor Jean Valjean is?”

 

The dark-haired man slowly nods, recalling some pieces of memories, which have returned to him. “Yes, I do.”

 

Enjolras reaches for his laptop and logs in Tweeter. “He is the best History teacher I’ve ever met. Professor Valjean’s lectures are not just telling us boring fact…He_”

“Inspired you to create The Society of Freedom?” Grantaire makes a guess, while Enjolras types the password to his e-mail.

 

“Well…Maybe inspired, but he’s always been against our radical actions.” His eyes shine as he quickly reads something. “He says that the evolution of the society must come in its time.” Enjolras’s eyes widen. “I don’t have scholarship…Intresting. They don’t even try to explain how a student with the best results on a faculty doesn’t have scholarship.”

 

He types something angrily in silence. Grantaire’s watching him, tiny pieces of new memories comes to his mind. Suddenly Enjolras pauses, his finger above the bottom Enter. He looks up. “I am posting the information about the future meeting, possibly a riot.”

 

Grantaire raises his eyebrows. “I have no doubts about the fact that you are planning to lead students and fight for our rights.”

 

Enjolras hesitates before answering. “You were always against this. You never believed in what I did, never believed we could achieve a success.” He closes his laptop. “Yet you were always by my side, scarifying for me. Receiving only despised looks from me.” Grantaire feels a big lump in his throat. “What do you think now?”

 

The cynic looks away. 

 

“Grantaire? Will you permit?”

 

Those words make him shiver. He slowly, uncertainly meets Enjolras’s eyes. “Don’t ask me. I have no right to tell you what to do. I’ve never have.”

 

The golden-haired leader puts away his laptop and sits near Grantaire. He squeezes cold fingers of an Artist. They sit in silence, thinking, hoping, deciding. 

“I will follow you as always, Enjolras. Because in you I believe.” 

 

Once again Grantaire has shown the strangest abilities of his broken soul: to forgive and to love. He was always like this even when he was not loved back. Enjolras feels terrible for causing pain Grantaire so many times.

 

R notices a bitter face expression and chuckles quietly “Come on, Apollo, you have world to change. Don’t be so gloom.” He quickly puts a kiss on Enjolras’s cheek, smiling gently.

 

Two hours later as Enjolras wrote messages to the members of ABC friends about the meeting, they hear a loud knock at their front door. Grantaire puts away his own laptop and walks to open it. There stands Jehan; his long, always tidy hair is now in a complete mess. He silently looks at Grantaire, biting his inner side of the cheek. The cynic silently closes the door and leads him to the bedroom, where Enjolras and he have been working this morning. 

 

Enjolras opens his mouth to say “hello”, but shuts it up as his eyes catch the sight of Jehan. He collapses on the floor near the bed, still saying nothing. Grantaire sits near, reaching for a laptop. He quickly writes Never give up in Photoshop and turns it to show Jehan. The Poet looks for a second and then sobs bitterly.

 

Enjolras glances at Grantaire, but the second man only shakes his head, making the leader to be silent. 

 

Jehan hides his face in hands, trying hard to calm himself down. Grantaire shifts closer and hugs the student, letting him to wipe the tears in the cynic’s dark green t-shirt. Some minutes later Jehan looks at his friends. 

 

“I am so sorry, I_”

 

“It’s okay, tell us what’s happened.” Says Enjolras, but deep in his mind he has already guessed the reason.

 

“I’ve been expelled from the Poets’ Society today.” He answers hoarsely. “They didn_” Jehan’s voice betrays him. “Didn’t even explain the reason.”

 

He looks away, running his hand through brown, more like ginger hair. “And faired Valjean. What the hell??” in blind anger he hits the floor with his left hand, bitter tears running down his cheeks. 

 

Enjolras climbs down the bed and sits opposite Jehan and R. “Combeferre doesn’t receive scholarship and Joly can’t attend his extra Medicine courses. Without any reasons. But it nothing, comparing with what they did to the Poet.” 

 

“I will fight against the System.” The words sound terrifically calm as Jehan’s gaze meets Enjolras’s. 

 

Grantaire thinks about his own state in the Uni. Once he had scholarship, but he missed so many classes, that eventually he deprived it. He received a some kind of grant when his works together with Cosette’s photos were published in Uni’s magazine. He enjoyed making pictures, but hasn’t been interested in profit or final studies results. But still Grantaire manages to remains as a student in the Uni. 

He checks his mail; there is a letter, informing him that he must pass an exam or he will going to be expelled. The deadline of the exam is next week (he must make a portrait in oil paint). Some why Grantaire is sure he has already done that portrait. He quickly glances at Enjolras.

 

“What’s that?” Jehan suddenly notices an opened Photoshop file. Enjolras looks down then back at his dark-haired friend. 

 

Grantaire hesitates and then shrugs. “This is how I see our current situation.”

There is a figure of young man, who looks very much like Enjolras. His mouth is tight with French flag on which “censorship” is written and his body is pierced with words, which look like arrows. The words are “Justice”, “Free speech”, “Journalism”, “Human rights”, “Sexuality”, “Poetry”.

 

Jehan watches the picture and then says slowly. “I think we have just found the symbol of our riot.” 

 

Grantaire tries not to look at the young leader. Maybe he is not cynic any more. He really hopes that. 

 

Enjolras’s phone rings; he automatically picks it up, still watching Grantaire. “Yes?”

 

“Hello, Enjolras. I am at Musian with Ferry and Gavroche.” Marius says quickly. “Jehan is with you?”

 

“Yes, we are coming. Has Cosette made Professor to join with us?” he asks, turning off his laptop, nodding to Jehan and R.

 

“She tried, but I am not sure if he agreed.”

 

Enjolras frowns. “Okay.”

 

Jehan stands up and gives a hand to Grantaire. The cynic smiles slightly and walks to the kitchen, where he grabs three apples and comes back. Enjolras gives him his backpack with the laptop and three of them go outside.

 

All the way to the Metro they are silent; their eyes shine dangerously. 

 

As they enter the café Grantaire hears voices of his friends: angry, but full of desire to act. Combeferre is sitting in front of his laptop, talking with someone on Skype. Courfeyrac smiles sadly as he notices Jehan. 

 

Enjolras walks to Marius, but as he begins telling him news the front door opens and two figures enter: a young lady and an old gentleman. 

 

Grantaire feels an unconscious respect to this man. 

 

“Professor Valjean.” Enjolras makes a step towards him and they shake hands. “It’s honor to us to have you here.” He opens his mouth to give further explanations, but Jehan Valjean interrupts him.

 

“I know why you are here. Young, hot hearts, feeling the injustice will always protest and fight till the very end.” A complete silence fall in the small Musain. “However, it is not the fault of our University that many of you have lost some of the privileges and some lost their jobs. It is not the unique situation in Europe. The crisis impacts most of the countries…”

 

Courfeyrac can’t resist; his voice full of anger. “As for me it looks like they have deliberately punished the most active students. All Friends of ABC have felt that!” 

 

Students nod, agreeing with him; even Gavroche, who still is a pupil, sits with a determined face, ready to offer his help.

 

Valjean’s gaze travels from one face to another. “You are going to pour your anger on the University. It is not right. The source is not in the government of our education system.”

 

“It’s the government of the country itself.” Enjolras says, looking in Valjean’s eyes. 

 

The older man slowly nods. He doesn’t ask students to calm down, to sit and wait. There is no use in that. 

 

“Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men?” the clear voice of Gavroche sounds in the café, like a singing of small blackbird, whose wings have learnt to fly.

 

“It’s the music of the people who will not the slaves again!” his voice joins Corfeyrac’s, Jehan’s, Comeferre’s, Bahorel’s and Feuilly’s, Cosette’s and Marius’s. “When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums_” Grantaire can’t recall why he knows the lyrics, but he sings together with the others. “There is a life above to start when tomorrow comes!” a smile touches Enjolras’s lips as he notices Grantaire singing. 

 

Jean Valjean feels proud for his students. He is afraid of the possible results, but deep in his heart he wants them to fight.

 

“Let others rise to take our place until the Earth is free!!” their leader sings, making students shiver at the sound of his voice, at the meaning of his words.

 

They cheer, feeling that they can change something at last. 

 

Friends of ABC’ve discussed their further actions and with personal missions to do most of the students go away: Combeferre and Joly to the Medical campus to spread the idea there. Many volunteers, who are not students of the Sorbonne, but read different posts of Courfeyrac and Marius on Tweeter or Cosette’s site support the idea eagerly. Feuilly says he is going to visit his co-workers and encourage them to join the riot.

 

“Enjolras?” Grantaire carefully pats the young leader’s shoulder. 

 

Enjolras turns around, a pan in his hand, because he’s been writing something, which looks like a petition. “What is it, R?” the golden hair falls on his forehead.

 

“I have an idea. What if we take body paints and draw_” he pauses as he notices Enjolras’s smile.

 

“I know what you mean. Do what you have to do.” The revolutionary face brightens up as he watches Grantaire. He wants to say something more, but some why hesitates. The cynic winks and goes out of the café in his dark green t-shirt and jeans, together with his dirty red converse.

 

Enjolras stay still for a moment until he hears the voice of Jean Valjean. “I’ve told you. Even the darkest night ends when the morning comes.” The student glances at his Professor, ex-Professor now and then looks back at the window, where Grantaire’s figure is already lost in the crowd. 

 

“You were right about him. Will you join us tomorrow?”

 

Valjean runs his hand through his hair. He is old, thinks Enjolras, maybe in his 60, but it is impossible to be sure. This man is full of energy and is physically strong. But sometimes a great grief is in his deep brown eyes. 

 

“At first I have to talk with my old friend. He is the man of his word and duty, but I don’t want him to harm you.”

 

Enjolras’s lips curve in contempt. “Javert.” He mutters. 

 

“Yes. Inspector Javert.” Valjean replies calmly. 

 

”Can’t understand why you are calling him your friend.” 

 

Jean Valjean sighs. “There was a history between us, but I believe in a good side of every person.”

 

“When I listen you I feel myself like Grantaire. Well, like his previous version.” Enjolras quickly adds. Valjean smiles. 

 

“Do you believe he has completely changed?”

 

The golden-haired leader closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I think now he starts despising his own nature. But on the other hand, he is trying hard to become a better person.” 

 

Valjean put his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder. “Let it be. You will be fine.”

 

If you have never witnessed a riot or protest at least, it will be difficult for you to imagine this powerful, dangerous, but logically exalted in its idea process. But there is a difference between the logic of the riot and its philosophy. Logic can suggest war as a right decision, but philosophy in its conclusions always lead to piece. In our current situation Enjolras is Logic and Combeferre is Philosophy. He supplements and corrects Enjolras. One is courageous, the second one is humane. 

 

But revolutions as well as riots are very often an answer to the violence. People rise when the only one thing to lose is their chains. In such moments they don’t believe in “demarcation”, “civilization”, “humanity”, “progress”. Angry men want only revenge. That’s why among friends of ABC there is a skeptic, who knows that simple truth and can’t share the high spirits of his friends. Grantaire unwillingly sees the nature of humans. And that nature gives him an impulse to doubt in everything. He believes in Enjolras and in his case it is naturally. A bent of skeptic to the man of faith is a scream of his broken soul, which searches for the rescue. 

 

But at the beginning, when the Idea, clear and high, is uniting different people, making them brothers, not in blood, but in bonds, Poets are needed. Jehan’s always dreaming heart gives a life to his poetry, which can encourage people, make them believe and be ready to the future fight, but without losing their heads. His soft voice with sudden changes into sharp tones personifies different spirits of the riot. Poets or Inspiration is the link between Logic and Philosophy. Inspiration is a reminder to Skeptic about good sides of humanity. 

 

And of course there is Courage. Courfeyrac is full of energy, which is as important as the Inspiration. His cheerful face and faith in victory helps people. There is a noble knight inside Courfeyrac’s nature. His courage walks hand in hand with Gavroche’s open-heart. Together they humanize Logic of the Revolution and cheers up the Skeptic. 

 

The next day the great amount of students, workers and citizens meet each other near the Sorbonne. It’s really easy now, in XXI century, to gather volunteers and like-minded people then it was, for example, in 1832, when a group of students tried to unite Parisians to fight for the Republic. Now it takes less efforts when you use Facebook and Tweeter. But the personal input of Enjolras and The Society of Action can’t be underestimated.

 

Anyway, if you were one of the students or just a person who happened to be near the Boulevard Malesherbes you would be deafen: lots and lots of sounds, including loud talks, speeches, songs, sounds of the city life, blocked by the protest, the beating heart of the French nation – students. If you climbed up on the top of the dome of de l’université Paris-Sorbonne, you’d notice that the mass of the crowd is transforming. It doesn’t look like crowd any more. It reminds you one, big, powerful creature, screaming loudly, ready to jump.

 

Inside this crowd you’d see dark-haired Grantaire, with his grey backpack in which there are lots of body paints. There are blue, white and red. Also he has black mark pens too. The cynic is very busy now: he paints on the faces of the protesters. With the black mark pen he writes down the word “censorship” on their cheeks(“censor” is on the right one and the “ship”). After that he crosses their skin above and below the word with the colors of the French flag. 

 

“Next, please!” Grantaire cries, pouring more red paint on the palette, which he holds with his right hand. When R looks up in front of him stands Enjolras. 

 

The young leader is looking really impressive. The spring sun, dances on his golden curls, his red lips match the color of his t-shirt: red with French flag across his chest. The powerful flame shines in his ember eyes. 

 

Grantaire licks his lips and steps closer. He opens the mark pen with his teeth and starts carefully writing, his fingers touching Enjolras cheek. Seconds later Grantaire sighs. 

 

“What’s _” 

 

“Shush! I am working!” R makes Enjolras to become quiet, but explains as he finishes writing the first part of the word. “I’ve just realized that I am blushing.”

 

Enjolras smiles. “Yes you are…Sorry.” He quickly shuts up.

 

As Grantaire finishes he makes some steps back to overview his leader. “Not bad.” He chuckles. 

 

“Not bad? And that’s all? How am I supposed to lead all of these people if it is only “not bad”?” Enjolras frowns.

 

“Well, I can’t allow you to look gorgeous. Everyone will immediately fall in love with you and I will be jealous.” R answers seriously. He rubs his nose, but his hand is in blue paint, so as a result his nose now has a shade of blue.

 

Enjolras laughs. “That explains many things.” He walks to the Artist and whispers right in his ear. Even noises of the crowd can’t distract Grantaire in that moment. “Join me.” He carefully takes Grantaire’s hand in his own. Then leans and kisses R’s cheek. Grantaire looks at Enjolras lips, colored in blue, white and red. 

 

“Enjolras, I_”

 

“_love you too.” He whispers in reply. 

 

Grantaire grins, watching Enjolras. “Come on, the Revolution can’t without you.”

“Us.”

 

Do you hear the people sing   
Lost in the valley of the night?  
It is the music of a people   
Who are climbing to the light. 

For the wretched of the earth   
There is a flame that never dies.   
Even the darkest night will end   
And the sun will rise.


	8. Epilog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. Sorry that I haven't uploaded it for so long, I was busy writing other stories about our deer Revolutionaries. Thank you so much for the reading this silly stuff. Have a nice day)
> 
> P.S. please excuse my English. I know I have to learn it at last((

Epilog

The protest on that sunny, bright day of June failed eventually. Many Parisians saw young, fearless students, saw their fight against the many headed, with sharp claws creature – against the System. But every woman and every man knew already that they those youths were doomed. Just like the previous revolutions they changed the situation just a bit, but they left the influence in people’s minds and hearts. Les Amis reminded that “Freedom” was not just a word or a sound, it had meaning, it could change the whole eras, it always waits to be fought for.

The Police attacked them and Enjolras, Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Gavroche, Jehan, Marius and Cosette – they were fighting. Young idols of the revolution, who truly believed they could change. Even the Skeptic believed.

The loud sounds of police cars, tear gas; cries of the crowd, singing fearless; the sharp pain on their hands and shoulders as the police force its way, blood of angry men on the pavement together with fallen flags; the body paint is mixed with sweat and tears. And there was Sun shining brightly.

Professor Valjean paid for their rescue from the jail next evening and now they are silently sitting in Combeferre’s place. Silently, not because they are depressed, but because all of them are looking back, watching the still sleeping force of People. It could help them, but just as before during other revolutions, people are scared.

Grantaire is holding Enjolras’s hand, trying to warm it a bit. The leader is looking somewhere and in that moment the Artist is sure that he and Enjolras have met before. They fought and died, but here they are again, fighting and living. 

He carefully leans forward and whispers “Past and present. By each crime and every kindness, we birth our future. ” Enjolras turns his head, looking lost. “We will change this world. Not necessary right now, but we will, I promise.” Grantaire sounds strange, even mad, but in his words was so much faith. He tickles Enjolras’s skin as he continues whispering. “I believe there is another world waiting for us, Enjolras, a better one.” 

The leader smiles doubtfully. “I think I’ve heard that phrase before.”

The cynic shrugs and laughs. “Yes, it is from the book “Cloud Atlas”, but there is something more.”

As they speak quietly in the corner of the room, no one really pays attention to them. Jehan is sitting with his head on the laps of Courfeyrac, Marius with splitted lower lip, is hugging Cosette, sitting behind her. Combeferre is typing an article, laptop on his knees and a cup of hot tea is standing near. Gavroche has fallen asleep near Courfeyrac and Jehan. They are calm, but it only looks like that. After all, they are Revolutionaries. 

“You know, I am sure that we met before.” Grantaire says, playing with Enjolras’s golden locks. “And with all my skepticism I am sure we’ve met before in another life.” The leader is watching Grantaire, afraid to say that he has been thinking about that too many time before. “And I fell in love with you there.” Both of them smile. “And so I love you know too. It's a small world. It keeps recrossing itself.”

And they will fight again and again, until the Earth is free. And fall in love, because there are soulmates; they will find each other through the history and time.


End file.
